Last of the Gods
by Daughter Mestizo
Summary: It's one thing to be abandoned by those you trust, another to be hunted by them. Chapter 10: Only blood in the darkness. CSI: Miami/NY/Vegas
1. Prologue

Last of the Gods

**Prologue**

It was a mild evening. Mildly cold, but crisp. The locals waited it out in their cotton shirts, most muddy from a hard day's farming.

A young woman pushed her way against the wind. She was a foreigner, made obvious by the way she clutched her heavy cloak around her shoulders. It was well-made, and embroidered.

_ Nobility, maybe?_ Thought one of the men who watched her pass. _But alone…_

He motioned to his friends, who pushed themselves off the wall and began a quiet, deliberate pursuit.

She knew she was being followed, probably by roughs. _Hopefully_ by roughs, given the alternative. She didn't change her pace, not a bit. She might miss her turn. Besides, they'd catch up.

_ Relax_, she told herself, _just another minute._

The man almost laughed when she eventually turned into an alleyway, a dead end. If she was stupid enough to do that, she'd probably be too stupid to fight back. The nobility always expected someone to be watching their asses.

Just not _him._

He rounded the corner, friends in tow. She had stopped entirely, and seemed to be waiting for something. In fact, she was ignoring him completely. For a few indecisive seconds, he took in her appearance: pale, with curls of dark hair falling over her cloak collar and obscuring the right side of her face. He twitched; was she mocking him somehow, with her carelessness? Challenging him?

"Hey there!" He called out to her, betraying as little as possible in his tone. She turned to face him, then looked away.

_ Bitch. _He changed tacks.

"That's okay, you don't have to talk." He grinned and approached her. When she turned her head the other way, he'd had it.

Grabbing her arm, through her cloak, he yanked her towards him. "Hey-!"

Then he stopped. The sudden movement had swung her head abruptly, and her hair flew out of her face.

Her _eye_…it was grotesque. Almost twice as large as the left one, it dug downwards into her cheek. The iris was enormous, and there was no visible pupil. It was perfectly, completely round, and completely white.

He'd only ever heard stories, and all of sudden, like a nightmare, his worst childhood fears had come true. He yelled.

"She's a wit--!"

A hand, gloved in leather, large and firm, clamped itself over his mouth. He couldn't turn his head an inch. Petrified, he strained his eyes to see the figure that had suddenly materialised behind him, between himself and his friends. It spoke.

"_That's_…not a very nice thing to say."

He ran. He was sure, at any moment, that his heart would stop, that he would be cursed, fall into Hell, but he ran anyways, out of the alleyway, catching only the briefest glimpse of black and a shock of red.

* * *

Marisol watched him run, out of sight, before tugging her chilled hands out of her cloak and rearranging her hair.

"You know," she began with a small smile, "you really scare people when you do that. It's a little mean, don't you think?"

Her companion remained expressionless. "Would you rather I had waited five more minutes?"

Marisol shook her head. "Oh, Horatio, don't be like that. That's not what I meant."

Horatio looked rather pained. "Why didn't you wait for me? I was coming to get you."

"It was unbearably stuffy in there. Besides," she added, looking him in the face with a smile, "I know you're always watching anyways."

He said nothing. She changed the subject. "Did you find us a room?"

"I did, in the opposite direction," he gestured briefly away from where the intrusive man had run minutes earlier. "With any luck, we won't be found out."

"I hope so!" Marisol gathered her cloak around her in a huff. "At least one night a week, I'd like to sleep on a real bed!" Mimicking the pained expression of her guardian a moment earlier, she added, "Is that too much to ask?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

_Marisol._

They landed with a soft _thump_ in a clearing between the trees. Horatio had jumped cleanly through the leaves and steadied himself before letting Marisol stand on her feet.

"You're so _gentle_," she cooed, with a smirk.

Horatio looked around. "Is this the right place?"

Marisol's face straightened. "Yes…it's close enough." She paused, then pointed left, past Horatio. "Over there," she stated simply.

They walked in silence, under the rich canopy of the undisturbed forest. Nobody had lived there for generations, close to one hundred years. The remnants of civilization were marked by small clearings between the old and the older trees, such as the one they had landed in.

Though they walked in step, Horatio was following Marisol, watching her face with an occasional sidelong glance. He had no choice, after all. He could sense a change in weather, every tree root that stuck above ground, any unnatural whisper on the wind, and all manner of creatures, save the one they hunted. That was her purpose.

Suddenly she stopped. She seemed to smell the air, and Horatio watched the wind brush over her skin as he waited.

"I think…now."

He nodded.

Marisol blinked several times, and opened her Eye.

The milky white of her right eye seemed to split, a long, dark line running through it. It pushed outwards, until it encompassed the whole iris. The black veneer that covered it now seemed to move on its own, rolling around and searching with no movement whatsoever in the left of her face. It was fascinating to watch, beautiful to those who had seen it, and terrifying to those who hadn't.

At last it focused, straight ahead. Marisol smiled, reassuring. "Just a little further."

This time, Horatio took the lead, his right hand resting lightly on his hip. On their right, he sensed a block. A cliff, or mountain-side, no doubt.

"Stop. …They're above us."

"How many?" asked Horatio.

The black iris quivered, responding to the energy in the air, the energy Horatio had to trust Marisol to navigate for him.

"Four," she answered, thoughtfully. "They're very young."

"Are they coming?"

"They're…circling." Marisol took a few steps closer to her Guard.

A few moments, then…

"_Now!_"

In one, swift movement, too fast for untrained eyes, Horatio had drawn his sword and whipped it through the air in front of him, but he was a moment too soon. In the next instant, the creature materialised before him, screeching its deathly howl.

Horatio jumped back, hooking his free hand around Marisol's waist and striking out again at the ghost that lunged towards them. It hit home, slicing through the black underbelly and up through its neck.

_One._

He looked up; two more had appeared, preparing to strike.

"Don't move," he said to Marisol, as he did every time.

Horatio jumped, pre-empting the ghosts. The first one had been the bait, attempting to get the measure of their "enemy." Not that it was ever Horatio they were really after, but this was his purpose.

His mark dodged, but Horatio re-bounded off the cliff-face and onto its back, slamming it twenty feet down to the ground before decapitating it.

_Two._

The third lunged for Marisol.

In an instant, Horatio was between them, razor-sharp sword held straight up in front of him. The unsuspecting creature had even less time to react, as the blade went right through it, splitting it up on either side of the pair.

_Three._

The fourth had yet to show itself. For a few seconds, Horatio could only hear Marisol's quick, shallow breathing. He smiled.

"Close enough?"

But the fear in her eyes surprised him.

"I can't see it!" she yelled. "The last one, I can't see it!"

Instinctively, Horatio pulled her to his chest.

It came up from behind. Perhaps it was the oldest of the four, but not much wiser, with only the shallowest of attack plans. Horatio kicked it back; he almost pitied it, as his blade pierced the creature's gut.

_Four._

With a painful, screeching whine, it melted away, like the others.

Horatio turned back. Marisol stared past him, her gaze relaxed and empty.

* * *

_"Help us!" they cried. "Help us!"_

_Marisol smiled at them. Four souls, young men in the battered and worn uniforms of miners._

_Of course, the cliff-face. Their bones must be deep underneath, buried nearly a century._

_One of them stepped closer._

_"Who are you?"_

_Marisol shook her head. "Never mind it. What's important now is that you're free."_

_"Free…?" A smaller man spoke up. A moment, recognition dawned on his face. "I was so angry…"_

_"Not anymore," said Marisol. She lifted a hand, beckoning to them_.

* * *

Horatio waited in silence, mindful and respectful of what Marisol still had to do.

One by one, four white dots appeared in the perfect black iris of her Eye, then sunk away. A moment later, the black itself disappeared.

"Are you alright?" he asked, every time.

She nodded.

This was, after all, their purpose.


	3. Chapter 2

For those of you wondering why Natalia is listed as the other main character...enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Natalia._

It _hurt._

It ached, it burned, it throbbed, all in his head. Strange that it should be there, and not where he'd actually been bitten. But he couldn't even think about it at this point.

* * *

Natalia could do nothing but stare from across the small room. All of her help had been refused in favour of darkness and silence, but she did her best to remain undeterred.

"Nick…"

For the dozenth time she sent out a plea, though she was afraid of what might come of it.

Afraid of Nick.

_That_ concept in itself was terrifying, being afraid of her Guard. For almost as long as she could remember, she had entrusted him with her life and everything in it, and now she could barely speak.

What was she afraid of? What would he do…to _her_? No Guard in their right mind had ever or would ever harm their Seer.

Natalia flinched. _In their right mind…_

She had sensed nothing strange about the Ghost they'd found earlier that day. There had only been the one, too.

Somehow, in the middle of it all, it had disappeared from Nick's view, and even with Natalia's Sight he hadn't managed to counter its next strike. He'd been bitten, on his left shoulder.

Natalia had seen it herself. It was just a scratch, a scrape, most likely healed by now. But Nick hadn't been the same since. He'd gritted his teeth, stumbled, growled, holding his head in his hands, all the way to town. Only with the greatest effort had he managed to pass off as "normal" to the innkeepers where they were staying, and had all but collapsed once they'd shut the door to their room. He was disoriented, and clearly in pain.

Was he ill?

Guards didn't get ill. The idea was absurd, but Natalia was approaching hopelessness. Without any response from Nick, how would she even be able to contact another Guard for help?

* * *

Nick couldn't tell how much time had passed since he'd sat down. His whole body felt strange. Through the haze of pain he could recognize some as things Natalia had described over the years.

_Natalia…damn, where was she?_

Nausea, that was one. His stomach, although empty, felt wretched. His legs felt heavy, and yet somehow energized. He wanted to run, but even the thought of movement caused new waves of pain to sear through his skull.

He couldn't take much more. He was sure he would go insane.

_Where is Natalia?_

The air around him felt heavy, but empty. So many contradictions. He couldn't get his bearings. He was outdoors, with Natalia…no, he was sitting, he was in an inn…with…

Against everything, including, to his horror, his better judgement, he forced himself to focus.

_Natalia._

And then he opened his eyes.

* * *

Natalia had shut her eyes tightly and hung her head, thinking, thinking, and didn't look up again 'til she heard the rattle.

Nick was shaking. His chair was shaking, the table was shaking, and the one candle she had lit was about to fall over.

Natalia leapt up to grab it. Not all inns were fireproofed, and certainly not in a tiny town like this one, but there was nowhere else to put it.

Not to mention she had something else to worry about.

It was in that moment, holding the candle in her own hands, that she sensed it: the Ghost.

_No, NO!_

This was absolutely impossible. _Inconceivable!_ Ghosts didn't suddenly materialize! And it was close by, so close, close enough to strike.

Would she have to defend herself?

Natalia wanted to cry. She swung her head, trying to get a better reading. Nick took no notice. She had one chance.

She Opened her Eye, and as the glassy white pool was stretched and replaced with black, she saw the truth.

* * *

It was a mistake. He should never have opened his eyes.

The whole world pulsated oddly in black and white, and seemed to simultaneously be flying at him and running away. All thought of Natalia was wiped from his mind.

He felt only one thing now. The pain, the nausea, it had all passed. In its place was _rage_.

This…_world_ was all wrong, all wrong. It had to be destroyed, and everything in it.

And there…in the corner of his eye, there it was. The Ghost. Yes, that was what had started this nightmare. Its face was horribly distorted, truly terrifying, but Nick wasn't afraid. As it raised its arms he stumbled forward.

_Die, you beast!_

* * *

"Nick, no…no…"

Natalia raised her hands to her face, hoping to make the terrible image disappear.

Where Nick had been standing only moments ago, there was now a monster. Not a true Ghost, but not Nick, some sort of horrible, demi-human hybrid.

With her Eye Opened, Nick's face had contorted, his mouth turned upwards in a wicked snarl, his eyes were black, his posture hunched and animalistic. Moreover, he was clearly unsteady.

And he was coming straight at her.

Natalia panicked and dropped the candle, which blew out as it hit the floor. It was only her now…her, and _it_. She threw up her arms, frantic.

"Nick, no! Stop, _please!_"

* * *

As the demon raised its snakelike arms to strike, the whole room seemed to stretch and shake with it. Nick lashed out, even as the darkness seemed to close in him, squeezing. He grabbed it by an arm, pushing it backwards as hard as he could.

It _howled_.

Natalia screamed as Nick bent her arm backwards. The last thing she heard was the _snap_ of her bones and then there was nothing but the pain, ripping her apart. She fell over, unable to stop herself.

_That voice._

In one final, ultimate moment of clarity, Nick heard the howl, then the wail, then the _scream_. It only took a split-second for him to understand, and that was all he had.

He roared, gripping his head and tearing at his hair, thrashing. Somewhere far, far away, he heard what sounded like footsteps.

_Natalia. NATALIA!_

He shut his eyes, accepting the torturous pain, and forced himself to turn.

* * *

Natalia had screamed, but she couldn't cry. The instant Nick let go, she threw herself up, only to watch him turn, run, and crash through the window of their room.

They were on the second floor, but that didn't matter. Within seconds he would be long gone.

Nick…

_Nick…?_

The pain returned, and she collapsed onto the bed, as the footsteps of the innkeeper and her grandsons pounded the stairwell.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Horatio and Marisol had travelled a good fifty miles before calling it a day. Having found a small clearing deemed secluded and safe enough by Horatio, they opted to camp for the night. In the daylight they had left, Marisol decided to make herself a meal.

She pulled open her bag. By an unspoken rule, Marisol carried all the life-essentials. They were few, mostly food and an extra blanket, but if she and Horatio were ever separated, she would have what she needed to survive. Horatio carried everything heavier; he didn't need the food.

"Bread," Marisol spoke out, in any direction. She couldn't usually count on _him_ for conversations starters.

"Is there nothing else?" she called out. Butter melted, she hadn't expected any. Cheese became equally unpleasant. They must have run out of meat.

"If there's nothing else in the bag…" Horatio's voice flowed into her ear from somewhere behind her. "Sorry."

Marisol smiled. "Bread's fine, Horatio." _At least we have water to go with it._

No answer. Horatio wasn't much for dinner conversation.

* * *

No sooner had he murmured his response, than he paused. Something had entered his peripheral mind.

Horatio took a few steps to the left to get a better reading. Another Guard was headed past them, likely without a Seer. He was moving too quickly.

Horatio frowned. _Business._

He tapped his fingers against a tree trunk, waiting for the other one to get within hearing range. In Human terms, he was still at least half a mile away. There was no sound except for Marisol's rhythmic chewing.

A few more seconds. Without moving, he called out.

_'Who's there?'_

He didn't bother with the niceties. Those on official tasks never returned the favour.

_'Guild business'_ came the answer, in his mind, like a whisper.

_'I know'_ Horatio didn't play their games.

Closer, closer…

Horatio stepped back towards Marisol. If they were coming Ito/I him, that was even worse.

"Horatio."

Marisol stopped eating and spun around. Horatio turned calmly; he recognized _that_ voice.

"Hello, Rick."

"Hello," echoed Marisol.

Horatio moved towards. Without stopping, he leaned over and whispered, "It's alright," into the Seer's ear. She nodded.

Standing under the canopy of the dark, sometimes misshapen trees, out of hearing range of the clearing, Horatio rested his hands nonchalantly on his hips.

"You haven't come by in a while, Rick. I was starting to miss you," he grinned, one sharp canine flashing briefly.

Rick returned the grin, warily. He was of a more normal breed of Guard than Horatio; dark hair, dark eyes to match their uniforms. He blended in much more easily.

"My deepest apologies," he intoned.

There was a guarded silence. Horatio's curiosity was piqued.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You called me."

Horatio shook his head. "You're all business, Rick. What's this about?"

Rick frowned, but didn't answer. Horatio shifted.

_'What's the Guild doing?'_

Marisol watched them from where she had been eating. There was a long, hard silence, but that didn't mean they were talking.

Rick usually meant bad news, according to Horatio. Instead of travelling with a Seer, he worked up close with the Guild itself. Horatio didn't trust any of them. Few travelling Guards did.

Even though that's where they'd all started.

Whatever Guild Horatio held such enmity for couldn't possibly be the one she knew. She'd been raised there, albeit by Seers. What she remembered of her childhood within the Guild's Sacred City had been intense, but not bad at all. Before that, she couldn't remember. She'd been too young.

Her attempts to direct her questions towards Horatio's childhood with the Guild were always met with silence, and a sort of sadness in his eyes. It almost seemed as though he hadn't had one.

What kind of people did he know?

* * *

"Another one is gone," Rick said, finally. "I'm going to…collect what's left."

Horatio's eyes flicked briefly to Marisol. How did it happen? They had only one duty—

"No."

Horatio snapped back. "What?"

Rick's face darkened. "It's one of ours."

Horatio ground his teeth. Not again. Another injury, another…disappearance.

"And her?" he managed.

Rick looked away. "That's…where I'm going now."

Horatio forced his composure into place, but the restlessness was already sinking in. "You can't, Rick." It was almost a whisper.

"I can't refuse. I'm under orders—"

"You can't." Horatio was angry now. He tapped his foot. "Why, Rick? Why her too?"

"She can't just go _home_, Horatio." Rick tried to convince himself. He'd left the City, determined not to fail.

"This isn't her fault, Rick." Horatio's eyes pleaded with the other Guard. At the same time, he looked ready to attack. There was a steely silence.

"You can't kill her."

Rick knew that Horatio wouldn't let him do it. If he ran, Horatio would chase him down. Against all sanity. But Rick couldn't say no, for both their sakes.

"What else am I supposed to do, Horatio?"

The question had been meant rhetorically, but Horatio lifted his head. He was considering it.

"I'll take care of her," he said, softly.

"_What?_ You can't do that—"

"I can, and I will." His icy gaze caught Rick's. "Are you going to stop me? I will not let her life go to waste. Where is she?"

It was Rick's turn to think.

"She's in a small town…about 300 miles north of here. It's called Marshall, right along the main Western trade route."

Horatio nodded, but Rick couldn't fold completely.

"I'll make you a deal," he continued, withdrawing two pouches from his pack. "I have the speed advantage, but I have two stops to make along the way." He shook the pouches gently; the clang of coins could be heard inside. "If you can get there first…"

Horatio was nodding fervently. He understood the challenge.

Rick stepped backwards, preparing to leave.

"Her name is Natalia Boa Vista."

He was gone.

* * *

Marisol anticipated the move, and was already packing when Horatio made his way back to her. She was worried.

"What's happening? Where are we going? Back to the city?"

Alerted by the tremor in her voice, Horatio seemed to come back to the present. He smiled, as best he could.

"No, no. We're going north. Did you have enough to eat?"

Marisol swung her pack over her shoulder.

"I'm fine if you are."

* * *


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The flames crackled loudly in the fireplace across from where Natalia sat, having been moved to a larger, more comfortable room. She cradled her broken arm gently in her lap and sighed.

The young man looked up. Having been instructed to keep vigil over Natalia under a doctor could be found and woken up, the innkeeper's youngest grandson didn't have much to do but react to every sound his "charge" made.

So they sat in silence, though Natalia could tell that the man, Ryan, wasn't unconcerned for her. Likely he was more than a little worried that at any moment, Nick would come bursting through the wall to finish them both off.

Natalia was very grateful to Mrs Wolfe. Her safety and treatment had been the elderly woman's first priority, despite Natalia's feeble admission that she had no money on her, which had been hushed away. Separate tasks had been delegated to her other grandsons, such as informing the police, taking note of the damage, and, of course, calling the doctor.

Natalia wasn't in nearly as much physical pain as everyone had expected, but she was nonetheless tormented. Nick had clearly been somehow cursed, and out of his mind.

Where had he gone? Had he been thinking at all? Would he recover and return, or thrash about in the wilderness, tortured, and no longer himself?

Or would he die? Was he already dead?

Natalia bit her lip. The Guild would find out, eventually. When Nick did not return, when she did not return, they would mobilize. She wasn't worried about herself in the least. It was the image of Nick, alone, unable to control himself and being hunted down like an animal that burned itself into her consciousness.

She didn't notice Ryan staring intently at her until he touched her shoulder. She looked at him, and in the relative darkness of the room he couldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"I think the doctor's here," he said, standing up slowly.

Indeed, from downstairs there came the hurried speech of Mrs Wolfe and the intermittent "Mm-hmm's" of a much deeper voice.

Ryan was shifting nervously from foot to foot, obviously trying not to stare at Natalia's arm. It occurred to her that he had likely never seen something like this, in such a tiny, tidy village.

She smiled at him, as much as she could. "Thanks for the company."

Ryan shook his head, reading between the smile and the offer of dismissal.

"It's okay, I'll stay."

* * *

It was impossible to sleep with the wind rushing through her ears at top speed, much less while nearly flying through the treetops, but it was the middle of the night and Horatio showed no signs of slowing.

Marisol was desperately tired, but said nothing. A life travelling with a Guard meant a certain acceptance of the abnormal, and Marisol had gotten used to a little extra.

Rick almost seemed like a catalyst, a trigger, even, for Horatio's "moods." It meant many off-beat and off-schedule journeys many miles out of the way, but Horatio still had a bad habit of not telling Marisol the _reason_ for any of them until they'd reached their destination, or shortly before, with enough insistence.

Once again, Marisol closed her eyes, and despite the wind, despite the up and down of occasionally touching down on tree branches and then leaping away again, and despite the fact Horatio's leather-clad back hardly passed for comfortable, she eventually drifted off.

It was almost twelve hours later when Horatio decided to explain their side venture. The sun was out – it was nearly mid-day – and he'd finally conceded to a break.

Marisol sat, stretched out, against a tree and chewed on what was left of their bread. For a while Horatio said nothing, did nothing but look out along their route and grind his teeth, but, eventually, he turned and sat down close to the Seer.

"One of ours has disappeared," he said, quietly.

Marisol stopped eating. "Again? The same as—"

Horatio nodded. Marisol watched him for a few moments. He wasn't looking at her, didn't want to intimidate her.

When she decided she was no longer hungry – her stomach was rather upset – she spoke again.

"Will you hide her?"

Horatio licked his lips. "No, not this time. Circumstances are different."

Marisol frowned. "What else can you do?"

Horatio blinked, and his gaze softened.

* * *

No matter what anyone said, Natalia had nothing to feel good about. Despite having, according to popular imagination, escaped the clutches of a madman with nothing more than a broken arm, there was no rest for her mind.

She had no money, not a penny, no contacts, no way to find any, and no certain future.

None of which bothered her.

Nick had apparently disappeared to the East, through a heavy forest, away from everything and everyone, much to the relief of the townspeople, who at once both pitied Natalia and wanted her out, for their sakes.

But no one was ever outside the reach of the Guild.

Ryan Wolfe interrupted her thoughts by setting down another piece of cake in front of her. She smiled, and he took a seat. Since the previous night, he'd barely left her for an instant, apparently considering his duty of watching over her to be a divine task.

After the doctor had reset and bound her arm, Ryan had spent a sleepless night regaling Natalia with stories of his life, of the village, confiding in her without knowing her.

_"You know, it' really my uncle Ron who owns this place. My grandmother runs it while he's away. He became a merchant, a long time ago. He's pretty successful, he goes all over the place."_

Natalia marvelled at him. There couldn't have been many years between them, but their realms of worldly knowledge were polar opposites. Outside Marshall, merchants, successful ones, were a dime a dozen. It kept the world running. Yet during the few moments that Natalia could push Nick to the side of her mind, Ryan's idealism was refreshing.

"You know," Ryan began after a while, occasionally stealing pieces of Natalia's cake, "I kinda knew something was up with that guy…"

Even a few hours earlier, Natalias would've been immediately on the defensive, but now she curious. She tilted her head.

"What do you mean?"

Ryan leaned forward. "You can see spirits, right?"

Natalia nodded. It had been unavoidable, that Ryan would see her eye.

He continued, "Well, it's not the same, obviously, but, ever since I was younger, I could always _tell_ when something bad was going to happen." He looked immediately apologetic. "That's not what I mean! That's just…an example. When you guys walked in, I sensed something about that guy. Something…"

Natalia listened politely while Ryan searched for the right word. "Strong…deep," he concluded.

"You sensed his aura."

"Aura?"

"Everybody has one," Natalia explained, "but they're especially strong in…people like Nick. That's how they sense each other."

Ryan frowned. "But I'm not—"

"Of course not. You're a _sensitive_. There are lots of different types of mental abilities." She smiled, "You should be proud. It's not common."

Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, well, nobody believes me. I don't have a special eye, or anything like that. Besides, I think it was just a coincidence, you know, with Nick."

"Why's that?"

"Well, I have the same feeling now, but he's not here, obviously."

Natalia sat up. _Oh, no…_

"Are you sure?"

Ryan tensed. "Well, no, but it does feel…"

"Are you Natalia?"

Natalia nearly feel out of her seat. Ryan paled.

A woman with long black hair, swept carefully over one eye, pulled out the remaining chair next to them and sat down. She smiled, as best she could, at Natalia.

Natalia took a breath. "I think you were right," she said to Ryan, who merely looked confused.

Shortly thereafter, they were joined by a tall man with red hair, and an intense but intentionally gentle gaze.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The young woman had introduced herself as Marisol Delektorsky, and her companion as Horatio. It was an odd name for a Guard. The Guild preferred simplicity in that area.

_Names like "Nick,"_ Natalia thought ruefully.

Horatio paid for the food, prompting Ryan into action from where he sat, trying to sort out his "sensitive" feelings. Marisol tried to decline a change in rooms, in the spirit of economy, but Horatio cut in, asking for two beds.

Having her arm in a sling only worked to make Natalia feel weaker and more useless, followed by silly as she realised that, broken arm or not, Horatio would carry their things anyways. After having met Nick, Ryan didn't even try to interfere. Guards were customarily curt with the average person, though it was rarely unprovoked.

* * *

Their new room – and Natalia's third, she noted – was at the end of the hall, past a small but loud group of men in the process of fixing the window Nick had disappeared through.

In front of the women, Horatio paused, then leaned over to whisper into the ear of the nearest worker. The man nodded, added a "Yeah, thanks," but looked at Horatio with the same suspicion as anyone else.

"What did you tell him?" asked Marisol as she deposited her small pack on one of the beds.

"That I would pay for the window."

"The Guild will pay for the window."

"I'll pay for the window, and the Guild will reimburse us."

Natalia watched the brief exchange with interest. After a certain amount of time, each "team" developed in own set of nuances, which Natalia, in better days, had always found amusing to observe. Other Guards alone were intriguing enough. Despite similarities in appearance and dress, none was quite the same as another. Not to a Seer, in any case.

"I know, I know," Marisol was saying, "I'm so _stingy_. Go ahead, say it."

But Horatio merely smiled, quickly, and changed the subject. Apparently, he'd also ordered groceries.

* * *

The sun set early in this part of the country, Natalia noted to herself, as the clock crept towards 7pm, and the sky to total darkness. She had politely declined Marisol's offer of dinner downstairs – they could hardly leave her alone here – stating that she wasn't hungry. It wasn't a lie, but what she really wanted was a few good minutes to herself. At first the company had been a godsend, but her mind felt tangled and hazed, among other things.

Neither Marisol nor her Guard had mentioned where they would be taking Natalia, or what would happen to her. She had heard all manner of things that could happen to a Seer who lost her Guard, none of them reliable. It happened so rarely, after all. If anything, it was the other way around…

"Miss Boa Vista, was it?"

Natalia looked up. Horatio stood in the doorway, alone. Natalia cradled her broken arm and nodded.

"May I come in?"

She nodded again. It was downright odd for a Guard to let his Seer out of sight for anything other than obvious personal matters. Why was he here?

Horatio sat down on the opposite bed: a safe distance, in personal terms, but still one he could cover in a fraction of a second. He clasped his hands between his knees and looked at her. Looked _up_ at her.

The natural deferral allowed Natalia to breathe. She was in control again. No doubt he was waiting for her to speak. Natalia forced herself to smile, albeit briefly, at him. She wouldn't know where to begin. Besides, he'd already entered without knocking – surely this was important.

Horatio took the cue. "May I ask you…"

Natalia bit her lip.

"About what happened?"

She looked away. Natalia hadn't cried yet, though she'd come close. She didn't want to talk, because she didn't want to cry.

In the end, though, she knew she had no choice. Guards, no matter how little they saw of each other, were a family unto themselves, and the passing of any member would be known far and wide. One of them had come for her, in place of a Guard he'd likely never met. She owed him something, anything. A story.

"It was my fault," she began, earnestly. "The Ghost was hiding, there wasn't much room, but I should have stayed back. I was too close. When it lunged at me, Nick didn't even have time to—to—"

_No. Don't make yourself pathetic._

Natalia lifted her head and tried to change the subject. "Did you know him?"

Horatio had been listening intently; the question took a moment to register. "Ah, no, I didn't." He gave a sympathetic smile. "Not directly," he added.

There was silence. Natalia knew she wasn't waiting for him to talk. She licked her lips, looking down again.

"When he moved in front of me…it bit him. In the shoulder." She tapped her left shoulder, reflexively, with her good hand. "It was just…a tiny bite. A scrape! It had healed before we even got into town!"

Her chest tightened, filled with the same fear she had felt that night, when Nick had looked at her with monstrous eyes, had screamed, had tried kill her. He had violated the one thing in life that Seers, Guards and the Guild alike valued above all else: protect your Seer at all costs. Tears filled Natalia's eyes. It had been all for her.

Horatio looked at her sadly. What he desperately wanted to know was what had happened afterwards: the madness and the escape. Would it be the same as _him_?

But as Horatio watched the first of her tears hit the floor, he couldn't bring himself to ask.

Natalia lifted her good arm to wipe her face, and forced out an embarrassed laugh. When she raised her head to apologize, she was surprised to see him there, standing in front of her. He gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you."

In his arms he held the sling the doctor had given her. She didn't even remember taking it off. Unconsciously, she rubbed the cast encasing her broken arm.

"Will you be coming down for dinner? Marisol would enjoy your company."

That was the most he had spoken to her so far, and the most he would for several days after. Natalia noted the deep, gentle, sometimes rumbling quality of his voice. It was inherently soothing, and pleasant.

She stood up, silently accepting his offer.

"Here," was his last word to her that day. He wound the sling around her arm and behind her neck, tying it into a sturdy knot. His fingertips, rougher than Nick's, brushed the back of her neck. In an instant they were gone, but she would never forget that first feeling, never forget how, not once, had she been afraid of him.

* * *

"So…what exactly _is_ he?"

Natalia smiled at Ryan.

"I mean, he is human, right?"

"No, actually, he isn't. He's called a Guard." Natalia stared into the trees. She couldn't have missed Ryan's quizzical glances during dinner if she'd tried. She had excused herself, promised not to go far – Horatio had been loathe to let her out of his sight – and retreated to the backyard.

Ryan had followed, and Natalia found that despite what had happened, it felt good to talk, for once, with an outsider, to talk _about_ people like Nick, to think on a larger scale. It reminded her of what she'd learned as a child.

"Their bodies are human," she continued, "But their souls are…not." There was no other way to finish that sentence, without dedicating herself to several more hours of exposition.

"Souls?" was Ryan's only response.

Natalia hugged her knees as best she could with one hand. "Our bodies are mere containers for our souls. The spirits I see are nothing more than the souls of people whose bodies have been…broken."

"That's…strange."

"It's really quite straightforward. Just think of the body as a shell. We need our shells to interact with other shells."

"Can spirits interact?"

"Certainly. But not with the living." Natalia smiled. "Not normally, anyways."

"So what do the Guards do?"

"They guard," she answered with a short laugh. "My purpose in life is to find the spirits who have been on the living plane too long without their bodies. They become distorted and angry. Instead of trying to find the Light, they reject it. It hurts them. I can put them at peace, and guide them to the Light." Taking in Ryan's stare, she added, "The Afterlife."

"Unfortunately, they're dangerous when they're distorted. Humans who live in the Light enrage them, and they can attack us. That's where…my friend came in."

She tried to go on, but nothing came. Ryan accepted it, and they sat in silence a while longer.

* * *

The new group left Marshall the following day, after a rather leisurely breakfast. Marisol had pretended to whine, complaining loudly of sleeping on forest floors, but when it was time to leave she picked up her pack and guided them out the door.

For the most part, Natalia walked a few paces behind the other two, lost in though, catching only snippets of their conversation.

"Where are we going, Horatio? How far off track are we?"

"A few days," was the mellow reply. "We're headed directly West for our next contact."

"How long?"

"Five days, I'd say."

Marisol sighed.

* * *

Come night-time, Marisol wasn't nearly as opposed to camping as she suggested. She felt like and older sister to Natalia, lighting the fire, showing her the best places to sleep. Natalia took it all in stride. She couldn't remember any of her real sisters – though she knew she had some – and Seers rarely spent time together outside the Sacred City.

Horatio, like a watch-dog – or a bird, rather – had perched himself comfortably on a branch some feet above the Seers. He observed them for a while, then turned his keen senses to the outside of their sanctum, watching, listening for any threat.

Within the hour, the familiar feeling in his mind assailed him, and he jumped to the ground soundlessly. There was someone coming.

This time, he had fairly good guess of who, and it wasn't good.

"Horatio."

"Rick," he answered, hands on his hips, close to his sword. "I found her."

"I can see that."

Horatio shifted from foot to foot, then walked toward the other Guard, leading him behind the trees.

"So why are you here?" Horatio spoke without looking at him. If Rick moved, he would know.

"A deal is a deal, Horatio. But I had orders; I can assume nothing. I just had to see for myself that she taken care of…in one way or another."

"Then why are you _still_ here?"

Rick didn't answer immediately. When he did, the look in his eyes could almost be construed as sympathy.

"You might get hell for this, Horatio. They may come for her anyways."

"I'm prepared for that." Horatio faced Rick now, his face steady.

"You could be putting three lives in danger."

More silence. Horatio knew Rick wasn't merely baiting him. Not even for the Guild. He made his tone as soft and as final as he could.

"I've taken that into consideration. Thank you."

That was the end of it. Horatio spent the rest of his midnight pondering on this new chapter of his existence.

The Seer was not out of danger yet.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Within the confines – enormous and beautiful, but confines nevertheless – of the Sacred City, there stood a majestic marble building. It had never belonged to any Royalty, and had always served as a coming-and-going sort of meeting-place for delegates and officials the country over, exuding luxury and power. It sparkled in the sunlight and glowed in the moonlight, all the while bearing down on the central square, visible and imposing, unavoidable from every angle.

The inside was by and large the same, with magnificently sculptured columns holding up the great dome in the middle, the walls painted, in almost blindingly beautiful colours, with the great events and people who had shaped this country.

Certain parts of the building, however, had hardly been renovated at all since this imperial office had first been built, one thousand years earlier: the basements, and the vaults. Their contents had been moved, re-organized, were better protected, but the walls were dank and cold with age. The hallways were lit only by hanging torches – that is, until you actually got to the vaults.

O'Shay sat at the long table in the middle of the vault-room. This particular room held only age-old texts, occasionally brought out for copying, so the facilities were there. Amidst the papers, inks and pens, O'Shay sat down: today he merely wished to read, undisturbed.

Business as usual had been disrupted that day. He had hardly been involved until the deviation had occurred and found its way back to him. Of course he had heard about the lost Guard: the death of one was, in itself, an extreme rarity – this particular type of fate was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, and yet, O'Shay could remember the last one. He had already been in office at the time, four years earlier.

He was disappointed enough that this particular Guard – Nick – had not yet been located and dispatched. O'Shay had been in his office, awaiting good news, when something entirely unexpected had been brought to his attention.

The Seer left behind had been…adopted. Those sorts of matters were usually dealt with by lower ranks, and had been until this point, but this was unprecedented. Doing his best not to display his surprise, O'Shay had asked the name of the bold Guard who had so undermined protocol.

Horatio.

That one had a knack for getting embroiled in these types of situations. If it were a matter that could be joked about, O'Shay would almost say it was his Genius.

Which brought him to the vault, and the old, yellowed texts therein.

Guards, in theory, were nothing more than undying souls poured into a common human mould. They were made to be unobtrusive: tall, but not overly so, with dark hair and dark eyes. It couldn't be simpler.

It also made picking out the black sheep a near mindless task.

O'Shay opened the tome in front of him, turning to a specific chapter.

_On Genious_

_In the process of Transmutation, there may occur certain Deviations._

O'Shay skimmed ahead.

_A Guard who is called a Genious may differ greatly from his Kin in Appearance. The Hair is fairer, and the Eyes are payle. In extreme cases, the Skin itselfe may change Colour._

_…_

_A Genious differs also in his Capabilities, in relation to his Kin. There is less Time needed for training, and certain Attributes may be enhanced, such as Speede and Strength._

None of this was new to O'Shay: after all, there were many such "Geniuses" in the ranks at any given time. For the most part, they were a boon to the Guild, provided they could be kept in check.

_A Genious muste be watched for sines of Rebelliousnesse._

Nothing was too good to be true. And yet, were it not for his position, O'Shay would have dismissed the idea of "rebelliousness" as cautionary paranoia on the parts of his predecessors. He would have, until he had inherited a problem named "Horatio."

Of course, in grand numbers, Horatio far out-aged O'Shay himself, but the former's life was relatively well-documented. He had been labelled a Genius at birth, due to his piercing blue eyes and red hair, but no signs of Genius had ever manifested themselves: nothing to distinguish him from the mould, to separate him from the rest of his generation.

_…Rebelliousnesse…_

O'Shay had considered having Horatio recalled, for the sake of preserving precedent, but that would have been an unwise move. None of the other Guards would think this incident the start of a new trend, trading and adopting Guards and Seers.

Nevertheless, it added weight to the theory of his involvement in the last instant of "madness," four years previously. Perhaps, someday, he would bring Horatio in for interrogation.

O'Shay finally shut the book; it had offered no new information, but had turned him onto a new train of thought regarding "Genius."

His predecessors had done well to watch this one.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

All in all, Natalia's new life – for that's what it was: a brand-new start – was exceptional. Of course, the Guild worked them to the bone, sending them on double missions, back and forth across the country, but if they trying to make the small group miserable, they had missed one very important factor: bonds.

For the first time in her life, Natalia had a friend, a _real_ friend, a relationship beyond that of duty which would be sure to last. Natalia had not had any sort of "friend" since her final days in the Academy, at age 8. Working Seers didn't have time to make friends, and their Guards didn't have time to let them, nor was it one of their duties.

In spite of the Guild, a phrase very seldom used, Horatio had stubbornly chosen to "adopt" Natalia, as it were, defying the conventions of relationships within their unique, closeted sub-society. It was a good thing Natalia liked Marisol, because they were stuck together.

Marisol, for her part, did whatever she could to bring the little family full circle. Engaging Natalia in conversation was no issue, but getting Horatio to talk for any length of time was a feat. It seemed to Natalia that he had a lot on his mind at every moment, even for a Guard, but Marisol had smiled and told her that he'd _always_ been like this, don't worry. She'd later confided, however, that he was probably brooding, probably still concerned for Natalia's safety, but she never stopped insisting that there was nothing to fear.

The Guard, Horatio, was a study in contrasts. He communicated, or so it seemed, far less than Nick ever had. Nick had been fairly social, excessively so, the other Guards would note, but Natalia found it ideal. It certainly wasn't too much for a human. But for all his outgoing traits, they rarely had company. Guards were both individual and collective at the same time. Each Guard worked by himself – so-called "team" missions were rare – but they all seemed to be an extension of each other. Natalia couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't put it down in words, but they seemed, somehow, all of them, to be _one_. They didn't communicate, because they didn't need to.

She'd meant to ask Nick, she really had.

Horatio, on the other hand, seemed especially quiet, even for a Guard. His eyes were always piercing the horizon, looking cautiously ahead, wary of any other presence around them where most Guards were merely apprehensive.

For all this, however, Marisol maintained an incredible level of togetherness with him. Natalia couldn't help but think of them as a quintessential pair: a deep and involving relationship. Marisol seemed to know things without even having to speak. Horatio treated her – both of them, for that matter – with more respect than Natalia would have expected from his general outward demeanour. She was continuously surprised that it had been on his insistence that she was with them. Not only was it not an assignment, it was _against_ orders. It was unheard of.

She would be long dead if it hadn't been for him.

Seers and Guards were intricately connected, and the death of one would resonate through both groups as a tragedy – particularly that of an otherwise immortal Guard – but would not be cause for a change in routine, in maintaining order.

Whereas Horatio had gone out of his way to protect her.

It was these thoughts that made Natalia restless – that kept her up at night. There was a very deliberate reason for everything Guards did, and she couldn't pinpoint this one. From everything she'd heard, this had been a spontaneous, and highly contentious, change in pattern. What use was she to the Guild now? How was she different?

The answers to both were negative, which left Natalia with a strange, uneasy sense of foreboding wherever they went.

It was both good and bad (and strange) that none of the other Guards they met seemed at all surprised, and certainly not concerned, at the new addition to the "team" of Horatio and Marisol Delektorsky.

Although no meetings between Guards in the field were planned, as such, Natalia couldn't help but think that their running into the same Guards, time and time again, was more than coincidence. Even more strangely, watching them speak with Horatio, even at a distance, she only describe as his "friends."

Although Rick could hardly be counted as a "friend," it was improbable that all of Horatio's business with the Guild went through him. The Guild purposely prevented Guards from meeting regularly, wherever possible, to iprevent/i "personal" relationships from developing, particularly between "clerical" Guards and those in the field.

And yet, according to Marisol, Horatio rarely spoke with anyone else when the Guild was involved. At any rate, Rick was the only clerical Guard that she knew.

More frequently, they came across someone like Mac. Mac very well embodied the essential Guard: unobtrusive, in theory, with dark, short hair and sharp green eyes, but with a distinct and unmistakeable air of readiness around him. Unlike Horatio, who carried his single blade strapped behind him, under his cloak, Mac wore both his blades – identical, graceful, curved swords – on his hips, in plain sight. Although he could brood with the best of them, he was more likely than some to smile, or at least flash a sharp-toothed grin. He was aggressive, but under control and well-prepared: a stellar example of Guard.

His Seer was a few years older than Marisol and Natalia, but hardly enough to warrant the motherly behaviour with which she treated them. It was far from over-whelming, or even irritating, however. Marisol had introduced Stella Bonasera warmly.

More than her motherly behaviour, Stella seemed to be an anchor for Mac that Natalia had rarely seen between Guard and Seer, no matter how close. It was rather amusing, watching Stella say "No," to Mac, and suggest a better plan of action for their next mission. Mac took it to heart.

Often with Mac, or shortly after him, came Danny, one of the "Geniuses" that Natalia had heard of but rarely seen, and certainly never communicated with. Danny was especially young for a partnered Guard – only 120, Horatio had later told them, the cusp of Guard adulthood, as it were – and it showed: having spent considerably less time "messing around" with the Guild, he was easily the most "human" Guard Natalia had ever heard of. He was vocal and communicative, and exceptionally energetic. Natalia later asked what distinguished him as a Genius. Horatio explained that Danny could outrun Guards twice his age and had a markedly different fighting style: he rarely fought hand-to-hand.

Natalia had quickly noticed, upon first meeting Danny, that he didn't appear to be carrying any sort of weapon. This was, of course, untrue: hidden on his person were innumerable projectiles, mostly in the form of long, thin needles and daggers. He also had a number of collapsible spears, which were required for fighting Ghosts. True to his "Genius" status, his accuracy was 100%.

Unlike Stella, who was senior to Marisol and Natalia, Lindsay Monroe was some years their junior. It showed on her smiling face, which matched her upbeat demeanour. She was well-matched with Danny, though. They were both unexpectedly astute, and quick on their feet. They moved as one, and when Danny carried Lindsay as they whisked across the landscape, she was more a part of him than an extra, if necessary, weight.

But the pair that Horatio seemed to get along best with was that of Frank and Calleigh Duquesne. Frank had a distinct appearance, different from that of the average Guard, though not enough to have been labelled a "Genius."

For one thing, Frank had hardly any hair. Natalia couldn't help but laugh – she blamed Marisol – at the image of a near-bald Guard. Frank, for his part, took it very well. Even Horatio had smiled behind his back – and denied it when Frank turned on him.

Frank was also considerably taller than most Guards Natalia had seen. If he were a Genius, his specialty would've certainly been his strength. Frank preferred to conduct business with his fists, and only resorted to the enormous cleaver he carried strapped to his back when absolutely necessary.

Calleigh was also the Seer to whom Natalia could best relate. Like Stella she was caring and concerned, like Lindsay she was friendly and outgoing, but there was always _more_ to her. Her smile was enchanting and uplifting. She never saw anything in a negative light, though she did offer sincere apologies to Natalia about Nick. She didn't shy away from it, either.

Most impressively, however, Calleigh was the only Seer Natalia had ever so much as heard of, not counting an old legend, who could wield a weapon. It was useless against Ghosts – no human, of any kind, could match their speed and agility – which made it an even more unlikely and unusual hobby; but as Natalia watched Calleigh fire an arrow into the very center of a tree trunk, and then another with such accuracy that she very nearly split the first, she couldn't help but feel envious, and regretful that he had never asked Nick to, perhaps, teach her to wield a blade.

It was with this interesting and varied "extended family" – as Marisol called them – that Natalia passed her first six months as Horatio's second Seer, and Marisol's adopted sister and best friend. She still mourned, and occasionally wept, for Nick, the person who had raised her from early childhood, but she was in the best possible place to feel, for everything it was worth, at home.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8f**

Natalia, Marisol and Horatio had been travelling with Frank and Calleigh for a few days now. They had chosen to rest in a town about mid-way between both groups' next missions. Mindful of, but ignoring, all the stares as they followed the main road into town, they quickly picked a sizeable inn in which to spend the first of two nights.

There were two beds in Natalia's room, which they had pushed to either side of the room so that Horatio could lie on the floor in the middle. Like Marisol, he was deep asleep, on his back with his hands folded on his stomach; Natalia had endeavoured to stay awake just to see it.

Seeing a Guard sleep was a minor event and a luxury even for their Seer. They slept even less than they ate full meals – which, although it depended on the individual Guard, were rarely more often than every three weeks.

Two nights in a relatively expensive inn may have seemed like decadence for travelling pairs, but even the Guild knew it was a necessity every so often.

The simple fact was, Guards only slept in the presence of other Guards.

This brought up one of the many policies of the Guild that Natalia simply couldn't reconcile with real life. They did their utmost to prevent friendships – strong friendships – from forming between Guards, and yet it was essential that they exist.

Were they to sleep alone, they would be leaving their entire being, as well as that of their Seer, if they had one, to chance and outside forces. It was a strange thing that Nick had never fully explained to Natalia, but when a Guard slept, he was immovable. They had to compensate for a month or more of near-constant activity, and while their bodies healed at a rate far beyond that of humans, eventually, rest became essential.

During that time, there was a strange disconnect between their souls – their consciousnesses – and their bodies. This was what Nick had never quite been able – or so he claimed – to explain to Natalia, but it was so deep and so consuming that she could have gotten out of bed at that very moment and stepped on Horatio's face, and he likely wouldn't notice. The thought made Natalia smile in a sort of perverted amusement.

Apparently, then, Frank was Horatio's most trusted friend among Guards. Frank, wide awake, was in the next room with Calleigh. Tomorrow would be his turn to rest before they parted ways again.

* * *

The Guild had quickly taken note of the newly-formed three-man team, and acted accordingly, assigning them higher-ranked missions. This was, however, illogical. A higher rank never meant that a Ghost would be harder to track – and if it did, two Seers are no better or worse than one. Rather it meant that the Ghost was older, larger and likely harder to free. With two Seers to guard, this put Horatio at a marked disadvantage, and only Natalia seemed surprised.

It was simple, Horatio had told her, rather darkly. They were trying to force him to give her up, turn her over to the Guild, or another Guard from whom they could claim her more easily.

By risking her and Marisol's lives? She had asked.

Horatio had cocked his head, looking at her. "That would solve the problem, wouldn't it?"

When the teams parted, it was in a flurry of hushed conversation between Horatio and Frank. Horatio later told the Seers, as they approached the edge of one of the expansive forests that lined the country, that Frank had offered to accompany them on their mission. He'd refused, naturally; the Guild frowned on any form of procrastination. Besides, Frank had Calleigh. It would have still left an imbalance.

Marisol had rolled her eyes and scolded Horatio for his stubbornness. However, when they stopped for the night, it was clear by the uneasy look on Marisol's face that she would've liked the extra company. Natalia couldn't help but feel the same way, though she pushed it away as more longing for her old companion.

By day they flew through the trees and across the expansive plains in between. Each carried their weight, and Horatio carried the Seers, one arm around each as he ran, climbed and leapt through the forests, with speed and grace unknown to humans or animals. It certainly ifelt/i like flying.

Late in the afternoon of their second day of travel, Natalia began to sense the presence of the Ghost. Together, she and Marisol guided Horatio, on foot, through the dense forest to its edge, where they faced an enormous stone wall, at least a hundred feet high.

"It's here," said Natalia, touching the rock's surface. "It's strongest here; this has to be it."

Marisol groaned in disbelief. "It can't be _inside_ the rock, can it?"

"No," answered Horatio immediately, looking up the cliff observantly, hands poised on his hips. "No, it needs space just as we do." He moved up to the cliff, a safe distance from Natalia, and ran his open palms across the stone surface, pausing, then suddenly slamming his fist into the side, once, cracking the wall and causing a smattering of small rocks to fall around him. He stood still, however, apparently deep in thought, and it didn't look good.

"This is a cave," he announced suddenly, "or caves. They run deep…everywhere." He stepped back. "But that means there _should_ be an entrance." He looked around again, ponderously, then pointed left. "We'll try this way: more of the tunnels seem to connect over there. Otherwise…" He looked up, and the Seers followed his gaze, "we may have to break in from the top."

Horatio declared that if no natural entrance could be found in an hour, or if the scent of the Ghost became too faint, they would go up. They trudged along, avoiding fallen – and falling – rocks, until well past the half-hour mark. At last, however, a gap appeared in their field of vision, and they hurried towards it: this was it, the mouth of the cave, wide enough for five people to walk abreast, and nearly as high.

Marisol was proud enough that she wanted to enter immediately, finish their mission and get a good night's sleep, but Horatio gently counselled her out of it, with Natalia's acquiescence. The journey had been too long, and the task ahead possible extremely dangerous. Natalia had to side with Marisol, however, when then latter pointed out that with the type of aura this Ghost was emitting, it was unlikely either of them would sleep well, if at all.

Horatio opted to take that risk, if somewhat sheepishly; after all, Guards were supposed to counsel their charges, to advise them, but never to overrule them. Besides, Marisol had been right; sleeping on the ground, Natalia could feel every movement the Ghost made, or caused in the surrounding countryside. She woke at least a dozen times, suddenly and panicked, only to meet Horatio's concerned gaze. It was, however, as he pointed out, better than nothing.

* * *

In the morning, they attempted to plot out a battle plan – the first time they had done so so thoroughly, Marisol noted. Horatio spent much of the time crouched, close to the ground, attempting to better grasp the layout of what he now determined to be extensive caverns and tunnels.

_Man made?_ Natalia had asked. Horatio couldn't answer.

He even dared, for their better safety later, to venture a small distance into the entrance tunnel to see it for himself. Unlike the Seers, Horatio had no trouble seeing in perfect darkness. Marisol sat, hugging her knees, waiting anxiously for Horatio to return. Natalia shared her sentiment. They had warned Horatio that this Ghost seemed particularly large and active: it was never in one place for very long. It may even have been it that created this near-hollow mountain, as a place, Gods forbid, enticing to adventurous humans.

When Horatio returned, he took a pair of torches from his pack, lighting them across the mountain stone. He handed them to the Seers, instructing them to keep the torches close, and to stay close to him, as though they ever operated differently.

Marisol led the charge, with Horatio's hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly from time to time. Natalia walked as close behind them as possible without setting them on fire.

They passed several alternate routes on their way, all of which Natalia and Marisol declined to follow: the aura was much stronger leading straight into the mountain. They moved slowly, and so they were not fifty feet from the entrance when both Seers stopped abruptly.

When tracking Ghosts, Seers relied on senses seemingly unnatural and inhuman. In this case, it almost seemed to Natalia that she _heard_ the Ghost, knowing full well that Ghosts made no noise; and yet, something rattled her ears, touching the center of her mind, even before she felt the vibrations.

Horatio, of course, "heard" nothing, but when the ground, the walls, the ceiling began to shake, he gripped both their shoulders tightly, looking around intensely. "Where is it?!" he growled, the tone indicative of his own frustration and, perhaps, fear.

Natalia looked at Marisol. The question sounded absurd to her, but, "Did you…hear…?"

Marisol nodded immediately before answering Horatio. "It's below us, to the left—no! It's stopped… I think."

Natalia did her best to concentrate, even as beads of sweat formed fearfully on her brow. "It's way beneath us. It's…it's stopped—turning! It's moving, it's—it's coming back!

"It's playing with us!" Horatio snarled as he let go of their shoulders, reaching for his blade. "Any moment now it'll probably come up from beneath us." He looked up and around almost frantically, looking for steadier ground above them.

One look between them and both Seers opened their Eyes, looking around.

"I can't find it!" Marisol cried, panicked. Natalia felt the same way, searching frantically in all directions.

"Horatio, there's something wrong here!" she said. "The Ghost, it's—" She shook her head, unable to describe in words how differently she was sensing this one. Next to her, Marisol nodded, and opened her mouth to respond.

Just then, they saw it: a blur, an enormous blot of darkness almost falling – it was moving so fast – down the mountain, on the other side of the wall. Both Seers jumped back, pointing. "There! It's there!"

Horatio slammed his fist into the wall, in frustration, and in warning. His brow was knotted angrily for several moments before receding into a wry grin. "I see it now," he murmured.

Natalia turned to him, shocked. "What? You can't—"

Horatio shook his head. "No, not that: the Guild. They didn't send us here to separate us. They tried that: all our missions up to now have been a warning to me, trying to force me to give you up." He paused in disgust. "Now they're trying to get you killed."

"Wh—what…?" Natalia was perhaps more shocked than she should have been, but Seers had a distinctly different relationship with the Guild than did the Guards. Even Marisol's face was contorted with horror.

"No, they wouldn't…" Her voice wavered.

"They would and have." Horatio answered flatly. He looked from one Seer to the other. "This isn't the time to dwell on it, though. Can you see it now?"

The Seers nodded, looking around. Marisol spoke first. "I can't see it, but… Horatio, it feels like…like it's _around_ us."

"Around…?" He had barely a moment to consider this before snapping his arms out and gripping each Seer's shoulder again.

"Wha—?" Natalia yelled – and then she felt it, too.

The ground beneath them, the walls, the highest peaks of the cavern, began to shake, violently. Rocks, large and small, began to fall from the ceiling, and Natalia was pulled off her feet as Horatio grabbed each of them around the waist, looking up and dodging the falling debris.

Natalia whipped her head around, trying to catch any physical glimpse she could of the Ghost, but there was only its overwhelming presence, seemingly closing in on them, darker and darker.

Then the floor collapsed. Horatio jumped for safer ground: it was collapsing from the inside out, and he hurried to the exit, only to stop in his tracks to avoid more falling stones. Marisol slid on the floor, and Horatio let go of Natalia to reach out for her. Natalia stumbled, looked up and cried out at the sight of the ceiling collapsing.

Horatio whipped around, panicked. Everything was falling apart, and he couldn't reach for both of them. Natalia felt the pain as though her head was being split apart, and the last sound she heard was Marisol's scream.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Before she even opened her eyes, Natalia could feel her head throbbing. She recognized all the other sensations – the grass tickling her face and hands, the breeze blowing across her – but every moment, every touch, sent sharp bolts through her skull. It burned, even against the dewy grass, under the cool wind, it burned like fire behind her eyes.

Natalia closed her eyes again and sat up, a small trial in itself. She touched her forehead; there was gauze, a bandage wrapped around her head.

"Miss Boa Vista…"

She turned sharply at the noise. Horatio's voice travelled well, consdering he was at least twenty feet away. He watched her from mere inches off the ground, on his hands and knees. The earth around him was displaced, and his sword was buried half-way into a makeshift hole in the dirt.

Natalia stood, shakily, and looked around. The sky was melded together in warm colours – a sunset – but the cave, its entrance now distorted with cracked and broken rocks, that God-forsaken place, was still there, looming above them. Natalia's eyes widened and she raised her hands in shock.

"Oh, God, Horatio! Where's Marisol?"

Horatio turned away sharply, apparently considering his answer. He looked ready to kill, but his voice was calm, if strained.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He looked suddenly at Natalia. "Can you…?"

She looked away. "I'm sorry, Horatio, but we…we don't have that kind of ability."

"I know. I know…" he murmured, putting his ear to the ground, his fingers drumming.

Natalia thought for a moment. "But…"

Horatio's eyes snapped back to her. She held his sad, but hopeful, gaze.

"But…I don't sense any spirits close by. Only that…ghost."

"So, she's alive, then. She's alive…" He seemed to be speaking to himself, reassuring himself.

Natalia ducked her head. "But…"

Horatio finished the sentence for her. "But she could be dying."

Step-by-step, one hand pressed gingerly to her head, Natalia made her way over to him. What she had thought to be a hole was, in fact, only displaced earth and grass, revealing a slab of rock underneath. It took her several moments to realize that that didn't make a lot of sense.

She knelt, standing proving too difficult. "What _happened_, Horatio?" Natalia couldn't imagine any scenario in which she lived and Marisol died, at Horatio's hands.

Horatio looked furious, the kind of fury only Guards seemed capable of: the look of a killer barely contained by only semi-human rationality. But it wasn't directed at her.

"From what I can tell…" he began slowly, though whether it was because he was thinking or working to disguise his rage, Natalia couldn't say. "From what I can tell, the tunnels underneath this structure aren't natural."

"How do you mean?" Natalia interjected, if only to humanize the conversation. Horatio didn't seem to mind. He nodded.

"I believe…the Ghost itself created them, and is maintaining them. That would explain how it was able to collapse them so _precisely_."

"Precisely?"

Horatio nodded again. "The only tunnels damaged were the ones directly above and below us. It was a calculated and targeted attack."

"And Marisol fell through."

Horatio looked at her again, and in his tortured gaze she could see that he knew exactly what she wanted to ask.

When he spoke, he phrased it carefully. "I was too slow in reacting," what was he said, but Natalia knew that to him, it was tantamount to complete failure, as it would be with any Guard. Horatio looked away. "You would have died without immediate intervention. Marisol's condition was…unknown. I did what I had to do."

The implication – "I had no choice" – wracked Natalia with guilt, and made her head throb again. She said nothing, however; and apology would do more harm than good. "What do we do now?"

"Hm." Horatio looked back at his sword, implanted in the rock's surface, and seemed to regain some energy. "I believe I've found a good point at which to break through. If we're lucky, Marisol will be in the tunnel directly beneath us. By making our own precise break here," he gestured to the circle of disturbed soil around his sword, "we can make it into that tunnel with minimal damage."

Natalia was surprised. "The tunnels come _out_ of the mountain?"

Another nod. "Quite a ways out. I can't say why…" He stood up, slowly, rolling his shoulders. He looked demurely at Natalia, like a servant. "Please stand back. If you can, over by those trees."

She turned to look; they were even further away than where she'd been laying, and she didn't feel much like walking, but that was probably also the least considerate thing she could be thinking at that moment, so she nodded and slowly made her way back.

Leaning against a tree, she turned to watch. Horatio was no longer looking at her; she watched him throw his pack aside and sheath his sword, all the while watching the ground intently.

Then, in one swift movement, he took a fighting stance, raised one hand in the air and threw it back down against the ground. Natalia felt a sudden breeze across her face, and the earth trembled underneath her feet. Horatio all but disappeared in a cloud of dust, as the ground under his feet burst open, but in the same moment, he leapt away from it, weightlessly, onto solid ground.

Natalia heard the rock crumbling, and waited for the dust to settle before making her way to the new "entrance," stopping to collect her own pack on the way.

As she suspected, the break was perfectly clean, and wide enough for two people to fit abreast. Horatio came up next to her, stood observantly for a moment, and leapt in experimentally. Natalia's heart seemed to stop for a moment; she expected him to disappear into the darkness, but the tunnel was less than two feet taller than him. Still, in the sunset, she could only make out his face and shoulders, turned up to her expectantly.

Had the situation allowed for it, Natalia would have smiled at him. "Horatio, I can't see in the dark."

For a moment he looked at her as though he didn't understand, and then he looked away. Natalia imagined a blush.

"Of course." He said, and leapt out of the tunnel as easily as he had in. He swung his pack off his shoulder and opened it. This was a Guild-issued pack, specifically for Guards, and specifically for emergencies; Natalia had never seen its contents, not even with Nick – which, of course, was a good thing.

Horatio drew out a torch, the tip wrapped in paper sealed with a magical character hand-written in ink. He tore the seal off, and immediately the torch alighted. He stood and tossed in nonchalantly into the tunnel, where it flickered harmlessly on the floor, which, now, Natalia could see. Horatio jumped in after it, turning and holding his arms out to Natalia. With another skip in her heart – and stomach – she jumped, too.

* * *

Natalia held the torch as Horatio cleared away the rocks obstructing their path. In truth, he could've broken through them the same way he had through the ground, but it was obvious that he was taking pains not to make a single mistake that could endanger either Natalia or Marisol, who Natalia hoped desperately was simply a few dozen feet beyond them.

They made their way forward, Horatio with his hand to the wall, gauging their surroundings with every step, and Natalia just behind him. Beyond them was nothing but darkness, and even when the scene of their disaster came into view, Natalia hoped painfully that Marisol would be there, just beyond the light, that at any moment the torch would light up her face, scared, perhaps, but alive and waiting for them.

But it never did, and they passed the fallen boulders without pause, without even a word, though Natalia nearly stopped dead when she spotted blood on one of them.

_Please, o Mighty Lord, let it be mine._

With that prayer, she suddenly became acutely aware of the sensation that she was being _watched_. This was not the usual sensation of tracking a Ghost, not even this one. Before the disaster, she and Marisol had both felt it, had known that this was a Ghost of legend, the worst of the three kinds. The one that _enveloped_ a space, and, eventually, you, too.

But that wasn't the feeling here. No, now, as she walked, shoulders hunched in bubbling terror, it was as though she could feel its presence on her skin, seeping into her veins and clouding her vision, her mind, everything but her fear.

She looked up again, and saw Horatio was looking down now. After a moment, he stopped and knelt, crouching low again, peering at the dusty rock under their feet.

"Footprints," he said, and there was a note of something in his voice that had all but disappeared not an hour ago. "Their definitely hers, and she seems uninjured."

How he could tell that from footprints didn't even occur to Natalia, and she blurted out, "Let's go!"

Horatio stood quickly and began to walk again, though he kept his eyes on the ground. It seemed almost unnecessary to Natalia, as there was only one path.

He further they walked, the less Natalia felt afraid, though she didn't consciously realize it. Instead, she felt a deep sense…not of calm, but of _direction_, and as she walked, she took her time to really _see_ this inner sanctum for the first time. Every little thing seemed to stand out to her…

After another long, silent stretch of walking through grim, foreboding tunnels, the ceiling rose suddenly, like the arched roof of a chapel, and the "road" split into three, much wider paths, as though designed for human exploration.

Horatio didn't stop for a second; eyes on the ground, he started up the middle path, but stopped, suddenly. "Natalia."

She stopped dead, as though suddenly awake from some lucid dream. Without even realizing it, she had passed him, had not waited for or even needed his signal about where to go. She _knew_, not that Marisol was there, no, just knew that that was the way to go.

Natalia blinked, feeling more awake with every subsequent breath. The presence lingering on the back of her neck seemed to slink away into the darkness. She turned around.

"Oh, my God, Horatio, I think…that was…" she put a hand on the back of her neck, "the Ghost. It—it tricked me."

For the first time, it was Horatio who looked surprised, though his voice remained even. "I don't understand."

"Me neither. It's like it…snuck up on me, and was…" she frowned in thought, trying to put the sensations of the last several minutes into words, "…pushing me along." She looked at him suddenly. "Is this the way Marisol went?"

"You're following her trail, yes."

"Oh, my God…" she whispered again. "Horatio, is this a _trap_? A trap for Seers?"

"Impossible." They were thinking the same thing: Ghosts had no inherent _intelligence_, per se; there was no cunning that came with their increased volatility and power. But where that was a simple truth for Horatio, it was opening a horrifying possibility for Natalia.

"I don't think so, Horatio. I know this is…_beyond_ a Ghost, but, it can't be a coincidence, me and Marisol walking the same path." Shelooked at him plaintively. "We can't take the risk. I _felt_ something, Horatio. The only other option is that there's something other than just the Ghost here."

"I feel no other presence."

"Neither do I. So then…"

Horatio nodded. "All right." He stood up and frowned, thinking. After several moments, he walked towards her, always keeping one hand on the wall. He reached his other out to her. "Take my hand, then. And if you feel that…presence, again, let it lead you. But if it does diverge from Marisol's path…I have to follow her."

Natalia nodded, surprised that Horatio felt he needed to mention that. . "Of course." What most Guards didn't realize, since such a situation was natural to them, was that Seers led extremely isolated lives. In six months, Marisol had become a sister to her, moreso than the sisters she was sure she had left behind. Perhaps there were more of them now; she was not allowed contact with her biological family.

She felt nothing, however, in terms of guidance, malicious or otherwise, and thus followed Horatio's lead for almost another twenty minutes. Then she stopped, jerking Horatio to a halt. He looked at her questioningly.

"How long was I out for? Honestly?" She said it as though a Guard was inclined to respond any other way, but she wanted to make sure.

"Just over three hours."

"Three hours?! Horatio—Marisol could be anywhere!" She bit her lip at his look of pained surprise; he was, without a doubt, the most expressive Guard she'd ever seen – with the possible exception of Danny. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I…can't believe we lost that much time…" She looked down, then back up at him.

"Horatio…I think it would be worth our while to let the Ghost—or whatever it is!—to lead me. I might be able to find something out, maybe…connect with it in some way."

"We have no idea wh—"

"Just listen! I think you're interfering. –Unintentionally, but still…" She looked down at their interlocked hands. "I think your energy is interfering with the…Thing's access to me. Please—let me walk alone. You can follow Marisol's trail, and if it comes to it, I think you can break the spell just by touching me."

All of this was coming to her spur of the moment, like an author writing furiously but unrevised. She wasn't sure it would work, or even if it was safe – what if the Thing could kill her? – but, in execution, it seemed so simple, and so _logical_, and if Guards didn't love logic and practically, then they probably would have died out centuries ago.

Horatio frowned for several long – wasteful, in Natalia's opinion – moments, then slowly released her hand from his grip.

Immediately, Natalia felt considerably less secure, but she swallowed her fear and looked around.

"Do you feel anything?" Horatio asked from behind her.

"No, not yet. I think…I think It has to think that I'm alone. They usually ignore you, I know, but since you so obviously interfered between us…it might take some time. Let's keep following Marisol, for now. I mean…I'm pretty sure we'll end up in the same place either way. I just wish that, maybe, before we get there, we might be better armed."

Practicality prevailed, and Horatio nodded his approval, leading the way again, glancing back every few seconds at Natalia.

* * *

It seemed to take forever before Natalia consciously realized she was being "guided" again, though, as she would realize later, this was not the case. The effect, the intoxication – for that was what it resembled – happened slowly: she would no longer be paying conscious attention to Horatio guidance – soon she would no longer need him at all, follow Marisol's trail on her own, albeit by more nefarious means.

Eventually, she overtook Horatio entirely, and the world seemed to go blank, save for a narrow path that seemed to support only her gentle footsteps, to only lead in one direction – there was no option of turning around. Even her torch seemed to have gone out, leaving her in a fog of absolute darkness, able only to see – no, to _sense_ – her next step.

Horatio followed two steps behind her – a space her could cover instantaneously – forcing himself not to "interfere," until he realized that Natalia – or the beast controlling her – seemed to be entirely unaware of his presence, so long as he did not touch her. Eventually, he walked in step with her, slowing only to let her pass first through tunnels two narrow to walk abreast.

He kept his eyes on the ground, for the most part; Marisol's trail grew fresher and stronger the further they travelled, but even he could sense that it was almost unnecessary at this point: Natalia was leading him to the beast, and he _would_ destroy it. And the Guild would know. They would know that they had failed. Deep in his mind, Horatio knew he was better, _greater_ – in the most literal sense of the word – than them.

Perhaps he should take Natalia away after all; perhaps he should take both of them and disappear.

* * *

Regaining consciousness after being under the Thing's hold for so long – the better part of an hour – was a shock, mentally and physically, and she stumbled, light-headed. Horatio caught her shoulders, but only looked at her long enough to assess that she _was_, indeed, conscious. After that he looked up, and Natalia followed his gaze, gasping.

They must, they could only _have_, arrived at the center of the mountain. It was enormous; even in the darkness, Natalia could _feel_ it seem to expand around her, larger than the greatest temples she had ever visited. It was a hell-hole fit for a monster of unimaginable proportions and power. Her torch was useless here.

She stepped back, bumping reassuringly into Horatio. "You…you can see here. How big is it? Where does it end?"

Horatio shook his head – decidedly unreassuring. "I can't see the end of it." He laid one hand, then both, against the wall near the cavernous entrance. "The ceiling is at least one hundred feet high," he murmured apprehensively. "I'm not sure…how long it extends on the ground, but it's much longer, or _rounder_, than it is high."

Natalia opened her mouth, but Horatio asked the question first.

"Is this where it lives?"

Natalia closed her eyes, concentrating her senses. "No. At least, I don't think so. Unless it can change the room's size at will—"

"Likely," Horatio interjected.

"—then it wouldn't fit. …And it's not here now. It's around us, but…under us? I can't really t—"

Horatio stepped forward suddenly, snapping one hand out protectively in front of her. "Do you hear that?" he asked, squinting into the darkness that even he couldn't see.

"No," Natalia whispered, but after a few moments of unearthly silence, she found she could, and it chilled it.

It was a hollow "tap," far off in the distant. It sounded inhuman, that hollow, unnerving, "tap…tap…tap," so dreadfully so, but so certainly coming closer.

Just as Natalia looked to Horatio for an answer, he seemed to have found one, his face contorting in fear and concern. Then, to Natalia's surprise, he called out:

"Marisol!"

At first, Natalia was bewildered, and even frightened. But when Horatio called out again, even louder this time, she took a breath. Of course he would recognize her walk, her steps, even at this unnatural pace.

She called out as well, relief pouring out into her cry: "_Marisol_!

"—No…wait." Horatio said suddenly, and Natalia's fear returned immediately. Horatio couldn't have been wrong…

The footsteps were dreadfully close now, and if they weren't Marisol…

But they were – Natalia could see her suddenly; first a shadowy figure emerging from the darkness, then her empty, lifeless walk as she moved toward them as if posessed, looking like a limp, ragged doll. When she got close enough, Natalia could see her eyes were hollow. Was that how _she_ had appeared…?

No, surely not. It hadn't felt—...

But Horatio seemed the most conflicted. Presumably, he could free her of this curse by approaching, but bringing Natalia and Marisol together was exactly the "plan" this monster has in mind – and crediting it with a mind was in itself almost beyond comprehension. Of course, neither could leave Natalia behind, even if by only a few steps. Last time, he had them both in his arms, and still…

He took a step forward and slowly swept his hands up to his chest; again, Natalia felt a breeze where there couldn't possibly have been one. He pushed his hands outward, then, towards Marisol, who stopped walking and seemed to suddenly stumble, though she barely faltered. The "breeze" rippled her hair, and she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, they seemed to pierce Natalia, who saw only one thing in them: pure terror.

Her face contorted.

"RUN!" she wailed at them, tears of the darkest of fears clouding her eyes. "PLEASE, GOD, _RUN_!"

They didn't have time to react, as, once again, the earth shattered beneath them. Only this time, it was being forced up, the cavern destroyed and crumbling around them, throwing both Seers off their feet, to the ground. Horatio latched onto a piece of the chasm and whirled around, searching for them.

And in the midst of the destruction, Marisol was swept off her feet and into the air.

She screamed.

* * *

I am really very sorry for the delay. To put it very simply, I was very sick over the summer.

In exchange, we've at least arrived at the first pivotal event of the story. Well, this chapter and the next; I had to split them.


	11. Chapter 10

All right. Onwards. This chapter is rated a definite PG-13 for blood. Also, the occasional changes in tense are deliberate; I felt it helped convey the action better. I apologize if it's irritating.

* * *

Horatio exploded forward. His sword shrieked through the darkness as he hurtled towards the beast - towards Marisol.

The raw havoc the Ghost was wreaking on the ground, on everything, made it difficult to get a foothold, to get any leverage with which to attack, especially as he dodged its huge, flailing limbs, hacking through any that came his way; they seemed endless, more and more rising from darkness, from beneath the ground, to swing and crash at anything and everything.

* * *

Horatio disappeared in an instant into the darkness, and Natalia was left alone, rocking on her feet as she tried to balance herself. In the utter and complete blackness, there wasn't even a shred of light to glint off Horatio's sword, to indicate where he or Marisol were.

* * *

He didn't have time to be toyed with - he hadn't had any to begin with. Of course, he had one, and only one, advantage - he always did: Ghosts never cared about Guards. They weren't even on the same wavelength. They had minds for only one thing in this world, in any world: Seers' Eyes.

But Horatio didn't even have the conscious time to remember that. He leapt, as best he could, into the air, slicing through another mindlessly thrashing appendage and using the stump as leverage to leap further, closer and closer to the beast's body, as it were - closer to the enormous black mass that had completely eroded the hollow room's floor.

He ducked and dodged; between the moving floor, the Ghost's own horrendous limbs, and his sword, Horatio covered the space between them quickly.

_Quickly, quickly, not quick enough!_

Marisol, suspended, being whipped wildly through the air, yet still conscious, called out again. It echoed dimly in Horatio's ears, the first and foremost sound being the rushing wind that signaled his speed, and where the next potential blow might come from.

But he heard it - heard her - and had only just flicked his eyes upwards when it hit him: a hard, deliberate blow that sent him flying back as quickly as he had come forward. His eyes widened, and he struggled to catch his breath, to find a foothold, anything, when it hit him again, from above, sending him crashing down to the ground, through the ground. He threw his arms out to protect himself from the boulders that followed, half-burying him, stunned and weaponless.

* * *

The horrible limbs swing ever closer and lower, and Natalia crouches, making herself as small, as safe, as possible. In the continuous shattering of rocks and walls there was still no sign of Horatio or Marisol. The latter's screaming had stopped, giving Natalia the feeling of being completely alone with the beast whose only impulses were to kill her as quickly as possible.

There was a whisper in the air, and suddenly - so suddenly that Natalia nearly screamed in surprise - something large and heavy thudded to the ground ahead of her.

She recognizes it, something about the shape, the size; something about it that makes her scramble forward towards it if for no other reason than that it makes her feel just a _tiny_ bit safer.

* * *

His heart races. The whole situation is absurd. He feels as though he's been born again, thrust suddenly into a dark and violent world with absolutely nothing on his side. Before this very moment, he had never even noticed his heart racing, if it ever had. Now it pounds in his ears as he considers the situation.

_It's impossible._

That's exactly it. He'd been targeted, deliberately beaten down by a cunning, powerful creature. Only one of those words should ever be used in describing a Ghost. Was it even a Ghost, then?

_Absolutely impossible. Inconceivable._

He snarls suddenly, forcing himself upright. He doesn't have the _time_, dammit, to be thinking about this.

_Impossible!_

He forced his way through the rocks, thrashing, throwing them aside, and charged, as fast as he could, towards the beast, seemingly further away than ever, but still as wild, as _angry_ even, as ever.

And this time he _knew_ it sensed him. And this time Horatio is prepared for a real battle.

His sword was gone, lost somewhere in the fray - it didn't matter. He dodged, jumped, rolled and ran past everything the monster threw at him; he couldn't even hear Marisol scream anymore, his focus was so singular.

_Kill it._ Destroy _it._

It was as he made the first jump, directly in front of the beast's enormous frame, that he reached back for his knife, sewn into a pocket in his vest. A sword, a knife - the only difference was personal preference. Ghosts could be beaten bare-handed, but to be destroyed they had to be _cut_.

He ran up the vertical surface of its body, tearing the knife through its gut - though he knew it wouldn't be enough - when he was struck again. A limb shot straight out of the beast's body and into Horatio's chest.

This time, though, the Guard managed to keep his wind, and land on his feet, in view of his sword, on the ground, within a moment's reach -

- as well as Marisol's body.

* * *

_She recognizes it, something about the shape, the size; something about it that makes her scramble forward towards it if for no other reason than that it makes her feel just a _tiny_ bit safer._

At least, until she's close enough to see the blood.

It's Marisol, laying sprawled and limp on the uneven ground, the blood from the socket where her Eye had been already sliding down her cheek and pooling quickly beside her.

Natalia is frozen beside her, on her knees, close enough to touch her, horrified. How could this happen? How could it happen with Horatio _right here_, protecting them?

Natalia noticed Horatio there, but felt nothing. There was no reassurance now, no feeling that everything will be all right. She couldn't even look up. There was nothing in the air but the sound of the Ghost's fury and destruction and, now, the iron-tinged scent of blood.

* * *

Its mission half-accomplished, the Ghost took this moment to reform. Its body swelled and grew taller, many of its flailing limbs being drawn back into its body. It caught Horatio and Natalia's attention as it emitted a harsh, high-pitched shrieking of some sort.

Then, out of the darkness, a fully-formed and hideous head emerged, lunging towards them, towards Natalia, a gaping maw swinging low as though to eat her alive.

Then it stopped dead, in front of Horatio, who had moved between it and the Seers' bodies. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, then roared, the horrific sound hitting every pitch - so low it shook the mountain itself, and so high that it felt, to Natalia, like her ears might burst.

* * *

Horatio roars back.

He feels restored, steadier on the ground. He feels hot, his blood rushing. He feels _powerful_, very suddenly, but more than anything, he feels rage. An absolute, all-consuming rage that swells in his heart and propels him forward.

* * *

It was the most incredible thing Natalia had ever seen, and as it happened, she forgot entirely about Marisol, staring wide-eyed into the distance.

Horatio had charged straight through the beast's face, and was even rending a gaping hole through its body. It roared and fell back, pulling away from Natalia, only to have its entire left side suddenly fall away.

All by Horatio's hand. Somehow, now, Natalia could see him fleetingly in the darkness, moving faster even than Danny, too fast to even seem real. And everywhere he flew the Ghost was being torn apart, huge limbs being hacked free and falling, crashing to the ground before disappearing.

The Ghost suddenly seemed so innocuous, so helpless, moaning pathetically as it was whittled down to nothing. Natalia had never seen anything like it in the entire world.

* * *

It's almost as though he's dreaming, outside his body. He seems to move instantaneously, his body light as a feather as he cuts the beast to pieces. Every step and every strike are perfect, and he doesn't stop - _can't_ stop.

At last the Ghost fell, literally, to the floor of the cave while its body washed out around them and then disappeared.

Horatio leapt to the ground, burying his blade into what little was left of the monster's head, rending it to scraps of nothingness.

Finally, it rolled out: Marisol's Eye - that which the Ghost had stolen, taken into itself, thereby fulfilling the only purpose the loathsome creatures had: taking life, whether this one or the chance at the next.

He clutched it safely in his palm, yet he still felt the searing-hot energy within his body. He walked slowly, carefully, back to Marisol and Natalia, hoping the feeling would fade, but it didn't.

Natalia was in a trance, Horatio noticed, as he kneeled on the other side of Marisol's body. He laid a hand on his Seer, but felt nothing, and no change in himself save for a strange, vindictive satisfaction that he'd done his job, something he'd never felt after any successful mission during the ten years he and Marisol had hunted together.

It was strange, and unnerving.

* * *

_Natalia felt as though she had entered the Afterlife herself, rather than merely merging her consciousness with another plane. Hundreds of people, spirits, were gathered together, murmuring, muttering, crying. She followed their gazes, making her way through the crowd. Even with her Eye wide open, none seemed to take any notice of her._

_At the center of the crowd there seemed to be even more tragedy; men and women wept openly on their knees, children wailed, and the talking was indecipherable and incessant._

_And there she was: Marisol, in the middle of it, kneeling, comforting, and smiling, ever-so-gently. She alone seemed to notice Natalia, and stood up to greet her._

_"They're sorry," she explained, "for my death. Their town was destroyed, completely destroyed, hundreds of years ago, and they've been alone here. Now that they've regained their consciousnesses, they recognize what...happened."_

_Finally, then, the people slowly seemed to come back to themselves, to follow the Seers with their gaze. They followed Marisol, still wailing and sobbing._

_"We're sorry...!"_

_"So sorry!"_

_"Please forgive us...!"_

_Now Marisol looked at Natalia sadly. "I've already forgiven them. I've told them. I'm not even sure they can hear me."_

_The spirits were closing in tighter on them, moaning their apologies even as they took notice of Natalia's Eye, and were, slowly but surely, drawn into the embrace of the Afterlife._

_The slow procession of the mourning dead seemed to take an age, and once they were gone, Natalia dropped to her knees in the eerily silent darkness, feeling exhausted._

_Marisol knelt next to her, touching her shoulder. "Are you all right?"_

_"...Yes. Well..." she blinked slowly and turned to Marisol. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe...I can't believe they/i won.i The Guild - they did this! Marisol, they did this on purpose!"_

_Marisol looked contemplative. "To kill me?"_

_"Or me. More likely me. Or all of us. But it's over now. What...what do I /ido?i What do we do? My life...I can't even THINK about it! And you... Oh, God... Your Eye..."_

_"Oh. Yeah..." Marisol touched the empty, hollow socket with one hand. "It's... It's all right. It doesn't _feel_ like anything. It didn't even hurt, really. It was so, so sudden."_

_Natalia sighed. She felt ready to die herself at that moment. She could barely stand to be having this conversation. What do you say? What do you say to someone whose final moments are entirely in your hands?_

_Natalia looks down, a little shamefully._

_"You...You should go now, too, Marisol... I don't have much energy left."_

_"...No."_

* * *

Horatio looked up painfully when Natalia shivered, signaling her return to normal consciousness. He looked at her, plaintively, until she regained her balance and looked back.

Somehow, that look made Natalia feel responsible. She smiled reassuringly, but the corners of her mouth trembled.

"She's...she's fine, Horatio. And she says 'good-bye.'"


End file.
